Beginnings
by JustaaFan
Summary: So this is how I think the Joker from Batman the Dark Knight got started. Might add more later. It's only T because I've been told it's very creepy.


Joker's Beginnings

The mirror showed the reflection of hard eyes and a glistening knife at the neck of a man who was finally free. Visions or previous nightmares played before my eyes, displaying a multitude of tragic ways I could've gotten the scars I was about to give myself. The sharp blade was cool against my lips; I kissed it lightly. This blade held the key to my release, the key to unlocking true sanity. As I stuck the blade against the soft flesh inside of my cheek, I saw it happening a variety of ways, by an abusive father, a distraught husband motivated by love.

My old self, good ol' Dr. Jack, the self I was leaving behind kept trying to reason with me. He couldn't just sit by while I planned to show humanity what it really was. How could he not have come to the same conclusion as I? We both worked at the same asylum, treated the same patients, yet he kept resisting my revelation. He thought he was my last link to sanity. That I didn't really want to let him go. That in actuality, I was holding fast to him.

I proved him wrong by ripping the knife through my cheek.

Dr. Jack was the crazy one. The insane part of me. He continued to delude himself. His entire philosophy was based on the belief that people weren't monsters, which was completely wrong. People had actually tricked themselves into thinking that they didn't _have _to be monsters. But you can't deny your true nature, not for long.

I grabbed the severed pieces of flesh of my cheek, bunching the ends together. Snatching my already threaded needle, I sloppily stitched the wound. This would heal into a grotesque scar. To truly be the example of the true, sick human nature I _need _to show the world, I had to look the part-completely crazy. Once I finished with my first cheek, I gripped my knife, slick with my blood and repeated the process to the other cheek.

Dr. Jack was finally silent.

Having completed my makeover, I finally looked at myself. I stared impassively at the chunks of my skin sewed together. I wondered why I didn't feel anything. Blood poured from the uneven cuts haphazardly stitched together on both cheeks. As I recognized the shape the cuts made, I began to giggle. My choked giggle quickly escalated into wet laughter. My face was carved into a bloody smile. Perfect.

It was coming on two in the morning; no one ambled about at the small asylum except my boss, on the inside, and some night guards patrolling. Judging by the way one guard reacted to my appearance, I had chosen the perfect war paint for my new role.

I wasn't coming here to say my final good-byes to Dr. Jack, no. I was here for one of his patients. The paranoid nutsy was proficient when it came to making someone disappear. I needed him to get rid of Jack-for good. Couldn't have my past demons coming back to taint my message. Jack might make the deceived think they can "help" me when they are the ones in need of help. Without Jack, I can show them the truth.

I left the guard at the front door with a smile as wide as my own.

The boss lady was still in her office, poring over patient files. Poor, overworked simpleton. I shoved the door open and marched straight to her desk, snatching the master keys from it, intent on keeping her from calling guards. I wasn't prepared to face more than one just yet.

"Jack!" She shouted, horrified at my face and unwilling to acknowledge that her soul looked just as grotesque.

"Hello Dr. Reynolds… I came here for someone… _special_," I informed, purposefully trying to sound unhinged, to be the perfect example of what she and all other humans were. I stepped closer, causing her to roll her chair backwards in attempt to escape me. And away from the help button under her desk.

"Jack, you don't want to do this." Obviously if I were here, I did. Psychologists always denied what was in front of them, jabbering on about something they had learned, no matter how incorrect it was. Before she could spout more meaningless drabble, I whipped out one of my many knives and slashed it across her throat. A bright red smile greeted me along with her welcomed silence. The smile came from her newly released soul. I longed for all to have such a smile.

Ignoring the body bleeding out on the chair, I examined the contents of her desk to see if I could find anything useful. A deck of cards sat in the corner; on an impulse I grabbed the top card, a joker. With a small giggle, I slid the card into the body's breast suit pocket. That will by my pseudonym, Joker. The irony fits nicely. The Joker is the only one with the truth.

As I searched, my eyes fell upon a newspaper under some crazy convict's file. The title page featured a place called Gotham. The article intrigued me. Someone had blown up the "narrows" of Gotham. Apparently this place was corrupt beyond corruption, but someone had been trying to stop the infection. I laughed hysterically as I made my way to a cell. I knew where my commencement in my new life would be, Gotham City. This Batman needed to know that he couldn't stop what humans were built to do.


End file.
